


One Summer, Two Neighbours, Three Visits, Fornication

by Ack_Emma



Series: The Ineffable Neighbours [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Birthday Party, College | University Student Aziraphale (Good Omens), Consensual Sex, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Experienced Crowley (Good Omens), F/M, Farm boy Aziraphale, Hotel Sex, Inexperienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), Meeting the family (Antonia's), Seductive neighbour Crowley, Vaginal Sex, disco dance party, mouth covering during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-20 20:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30010404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ack_Emma/pseuds/Ack_Emma
Summary: The summer after his first year of university, Aziraphale and Antonia see each other three times.---Three chapters, one posted per day for the next three days.  Smut is in chapter two!Other than Antonia and Aziraphale all other characters (tagged or not) appear in a very minor way or are just briefly described or mentioned.My lovely enablers in the "NO GODS NO MASTERS" server convinced me to go with this fic title.  👀
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Ineffable Neighbours [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161452
Comments: 40
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

Aziraphale was home and his heart was at peace.

It felt so good to be surrounded by his family and to again be part of the endless whirr of activity on the farm. Enveloped by bright sunlight, busy with his hands, seeing the immediate good he had done. Being with the people he loved, who were the foundation of his world. His Mother had hugged him and kissed his cheek on return before looking him over with her all-seeing eyes. Aziraphale appeared to pass her assessment because she nodded once then immediately assigned him daily chores. Anathema gave him a single, sly look and remarked, “nice aura”. His father had shaken his hand then proceeded to give him updates on the animals, crops, equipment, weather conditions, and what work needed to be done. It was so familiar, it was perfect.

The summer weather had been kind and long stretches of dry heat gave his family good conditions to bring in the harvest. Still, they were long days, up at sunrise and straight to work tending the animals, great and small, before turning their attention to the barley and wheat. 

Driving the combine harvester was soothing, the drone of the engine in the background as Aziraphale watched endless waves of cereal grasses disappear into the header, filling the grain tank and leaving a trail of stalks to bale after. He and his brothers Phaeton and Theo traded off driving the tractor and operating the forklift, stacking the tidy bales of hay for carting and storage. The results of his work were so obvious and tactile, silos of grain safely stored, bales of hay neatly piled up.

Anathema strode through the farm in greasy overalls, intermittently maintaining the machinery between studying the ley lines and weather patterns for predictions of future events. Once or twice a year she would stand beside their nodding Mother and announce some business arrangement or another that she’d pieced together, which inevitably resulted in a windfall for the Fells. Truthfully, no one in the family or even the wider community understood what she was doing but no one could argue with her results. Before Anathema had gone off to university, herself, the local families had quietly vied for the opportunity for their eligible children to court the unofficial town witch.

They had hardly gotten the chance, however, as Anathema had returned from school with a husband in tow. Newton was unassuming and agreeable, though had never quite explained why Anathema wouldn’t let him near anything with moving parts. He did most of the sheep work on the farm and was quiet and industrious enough to fit in.

After the long days of work Aziraphale ate an enormous dinner and went to bed early every night, promptly falling asleep from the hours of busyness and labour.

When it rained or he could steal some time alone, he assigned himself what he jokingly thought of as Apple Tree Duty and went to sit in the orchard. 

Under the fluttering green leaves and swelling red apples he thought of Antonia.

Though he felt like he was home, like he belonged on the farm, he knew that he was different, now. In so many ways, his world and his mind had expanded. 

He saw the farm in a new light, not just as his home and his family's history and purpose but its place in the wider world and how he might grow to be its guardian and guide someday. He now knew what it was like to reside in a city, the chock-full feeling and frenetic pace of it. He’d lived alone and managed his own household, his own schedule. He’d met new people in a new place, all on his own. He’d traveled to and from London several times by himself. He had successfully finished a year of university studies.

And his heart now drove around in a vintage Bentley, living quite outside his chest and, like a flash bastard, doing it with style. Among the many significant changes Aziraphale had undergone somehow he’d also become a moth, drawn to one particular head of flame-red hair.

Early in July Uriel and Sandalphon returned home to help for a few days, freeing Aziraphale to visit Antonia for a weekend.

His parents hadn’t ever brought her up on their own, which surprised Aziraphale a little as he did talk about Antonia when he described his life at university or what his hopes were for the summer. He wondered what Anathema had told them, if they thought his relationship was folly.

The morning Aziraphale was going to London his father intercepted him on the way to the car and handed him pruning shears.

“Fine blooms, this year,” his father motioned to the rose bushes. 

As Aziraphale stood and blinked his father walked off. “Mind how you go, son.”

The entire rail journey to London, Aziraphale hugged the giant bouquet and smiled out the coach window.

Being back there felt, simultaneously, like the greatest thrill of his life and as though he’d never left. Walking into the block of flats conjured up the excitement of endless possibilities, nights (mornings, afternoons, full days) filled with passion, warm affection when it was dark or cold, the ecstatic happiness of being in love.

Antonia had given his arm and his arse an exploratory squeeze in greeting, checking out how a few weeks of labour had changed him physically.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new body?” she propositioned him, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Aziraphale certainly tried his best, had showed her how he could easily lift and hold her against a wall with his trousers around his ankles. None of the sounds Antonia made during this demonstration sounded like “hello” but he supposed he could repeat the exercise if further introductions were required. While they rested Antonia had methodically slapped his arse cheeks to identify how they jiggled just slightly differently now.

Her body was “new”, too. Antonia had summer freckles and he took his time, lying in bed, to kiss and learn each one. With the roses perfuming the entire bedroom there was a contemplative sweetness to this exploration. When they had rested sufficiently Aziraphale laid Antonia on her front and fucked her from behind, admiring the highlights the sun had streaked in her hair. 

Unlike their day-to-day life during the school year, they had to cram as much as they could into the short visit. Romantic dinner was had, moonlit stroll along the river was taken. They went to bed extra early to make love again before the day slipped away. Aziraphale kissed her and kissed her, whispered “darling” in her ear while he spooned her and pushed into her. Antonia clutched his hands in hers, called out his name as he brought her off, fell into slumber holding him tightly to her.

When Aziraphale woke early he let her sleep and puttered around the flat, seeing what needed doing. He changed two burned-out lights, finding the new bulbs in the hall closet, just as he remembered.


	2. Chapter 2

Near the end of the month Antonia was travelling to visit out-of-town artists represented by the gallery and was staying at an inn only an hour away.

Anathema had rolled her eyes and huffed a falsely put-out “ _fine_ ” when Aziraphale begged her to cover his work so he could meet with Antonia for one night. Aziraphale hoped his sister didn't really mind. She was supportive of his relationship and besides, Newt got all moon-eyed whenever he watched Anathema operate the farm equipment. She drove like a bat out of hell but never seemed to crash. A year ago Aziraphale had walked in on the two of them kissing after Anathema had parked the tractor in the shed. It had been a bit confusing and very embarrassing at the time.

Aziraphale drove out to the medieval village where Antonia was staying. Her stopping-off point for years on the same work tour, a 14th century great house, was surprisingly old-fashioned and charming given Antonia’s aesthetic sensibilities. Aziraphale admired the exposed brick and Tudor beams as Antonia introduced him to the proprietor, a pale and peculiar old man named Warlock. She didn’t elaborate on her connection to him, other than to say Warlock was an old family friend and she tried to keep an eye on him.

It occurred to Aziraphale that he’d never done this, gone away on holiday without a family member accompanying him. Being somewhere, just him and his chosen companion, they decided where to spend their time, what they wanted to do. The freedom and autonomy was an added layer of enjoyment for him on this little getaway. 

And he enjoyed the experience very much, going off together with Antonia. To the point that every night for weeks after, Aziraphale lay in his childhood bed in the farmhouse, left hand covering his mouth, and wanked to the exact same memory from that visit. 

All throughout the afternoon, Antonia gave him coy glances and uncharacteristically chaste kisses as they walked through the narrow streets of the village, looking at the timber-framed buildings with lattice-patterned windows, hanging baskets overpouring with flowers, the market square giving a full view of the little village and surrounding forest. At dinner Aziraphale had been unable to even taste his savoury crepes for all her shy smiles and constant stroking of his hand. Antonia had teased him and stoked his desire for hours before she finally took him to bed. 

When they were back in their room Aziraphale tried to kiss her needily, pressing his tongue into her mouth and pulling her to him. Antonia slowed him, caressing his face and lightly kissing the spot just behind his ear.

“I’m glad you’re here, angel,” she smiled at him tenderly, pressing a hand to his chest to hold him a few inches from her. “I want you, but we have to be quiet, these old walls are very thin.”

Aziraphale moved in to kiss her again. “Antonia,” he pleaded, clutching her shoulders.

“Quietly, quietly,” she said against his mouth. “All right?”

“Yes, anything,” Aziraphale agreed, hands scrabbling for her buttons.

Antonia let him fling their clothes off but her grip was like iron as she slowly lay him on his back then held him still. She climbed onto the bed and straddled him, sheathing him in a condom with slow and perfect attention to detail. 

Aziraphale was already breathing hard, making desperate and impatient sounds.

“I’ve been looking forward to being with you, Aziraphale,” she stroked her fingers through the short, tawny hair on his chest and stomach. “I want to enjoy you. Will you let me?” she whispered seductively, as though he needed any more sexual enticement. 

Aziraphale managed to nod, then he groaned loudly as Antonia shimmied lower on his body to knead his thighs with both hands, to kiss and bite his hips.

“Shhhh,” she admonished, settling more of her weight on his knees and shins. Just enough that he couldn't move, just far away enough that she was past the reach of his fingertips.

Pressing him into the bed with her hands on his thighs, Antonia held her face between his legs and loosed hot, damp breaths on the dark, textured skin of his ball sack. Closing in, she applied the barest pressure with her tongue, breathing in his arousal and heat.

“FUCK,” Aziraphale all but shouted as she held him still and appreciated him with small, slow licks, moving up to place the gentlest, nipping kisses at the very base of his cock where the condom didn’t reach. The sight of her head between his legs and her mouth anywhere on him was not something he could experience with any equanimity. Especially since she had already spent hours working him up.

“Antonia,” Aziraphale begged. “Antonia, please. I need you. Please.” 

Leaving off her teasing, Antonia prowled up the length of his body and pressed all her weight down on him. Aziraphale surged up to kiss her and hold her in his arms. She twined her tongue with his, rocked her crotch against his erection. Her hair fell in a dark, red curtain around their faces, so Aziraphale’s world consisted only of Antonia. “We have to be quiet,” she reminded Aziraphale as he moaned dramatically into her mouth. “Do you need me to help you be quiet?”

Aziraphale thrust his hips up to increase the friction, panted, “yes, yes!”

Antonia raised herself up and brought her hand to his face, holding it just above his lips. Aziraphale nodded and she clamped it over his mouth. Sitting up higher, she reached down to grasp him in her hand and guide his cock into her slick, ready cunt.

All those nights after, Aziraphale remembered how he made muffled, insistent noises as Antonia leaned on the hand covering his mouth and rode him leisurely, drawing out her pleasure while sighing and rhythmically tightening around him. 

For a while she used the whole of him, uttering long, slow moans as she enjoyed the feel of being penetrated with his full length, again and again. Then she sat herself down completely and her hips made only the smallest, patient motions, rubbing her clit against him until a messy, wet patch had matted the hair above his cock.

Aziraphale tried to urge her to fuck him faster and harder, though the majority of the sounds he was making were decidedly not words. He was sure Antonia understood, though. She had a wicked glint in her eye as she watched him groan and writhe underneath her, all while she rocked slowly atop him and breathed out the tiniest noises of enjoyment. 

“Oh angel, you feel so good,” she breathed. “Can I keep enjoying you like this?”

Though he nodded, Aziraphale's hands kept twitching to grab her hips, fighting the urge to hold them in place so he could thrust up into her. Every time he got close Antonia playfully repositioned his hands. She kissed them, licked and sucked his fingers one by one, cupped his palms over her breasts.

Aziraphale started to shake, trying to hold himself back as Antonia looked him full in the face while she torturously used him how she wanted. “Still good?” she asked lowly. Water leaking from his eyes, Aziraphale gave a broken moan even as he tried to nod.

Antonia continued to work herself on his very stiff cock while he started to grunt with effort, scrabbling for control of himself. In the last moments Antonia leaned in lower, braced her other hand on his shoulder as she changed the angle and started to thrust forcefully against him. Feeling her body stiffen just before her climax, Aziraphale gasped loudly in relief and let go, riding the ecstatic wave of his own orgasm. Antonia held him down, muffled his noises, and fucked him hard into the mattress while she came.

She recovered first and continued to stifle his groans as he worked his way through the last spasms of over-sensitivity and release. When Antonia judged him sufficiently in control of his volume she took her hand away and collapsed on top of Aziraphale. Sighing in a pleased and satisfied way she pretended she hadn’t just utterly wrecked him and snuggled herself into a comfortable position against his body.

It was surreal to spend the night in that unfamiliar bed with her, melodramatically large and overly adorned with pink velvet and brocade. The white walls and wooden beams in the room stared back at Aziraphale in the dark, air conditioner blowing coolness into the strange silence. Propped up with pillows on his side of the bed and awake, the alien space seemed to befuddle Aziraphale’s senses until Antonia half-snored and rolled against him. The smoothness and heat of her skin, the solidity of her presence startled Aziraphale out of his disorientation. Vision tunneling in to center on Antonia, his focus and surety returned. He shimmied lower and twined his arms and legs around her, letting the sweetness and safety of holding her pull him under, into the darkness.

For breakfast, they had strawberry crepes, which he did taste and fully enjoy. Aziraphale decided he liked the old inn. 

“ _Come again_ ,” Warlock invited as they checked out of the room, so he and Antonia bickered on the walk to the car park over whether they’d actually succeeded on the discretion front after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is [the room](https://www.greathouse.co.uk/room/the-bastille-room/) they're staying in.


	3. Chapter 3

The third visit Aziraphale had with Antonia over the summer was quite the surprise.

It was the latter half of August and Antonia’s birthday. Her brother Hastur was having a dinner party to celebrate and Antonia invited Aziraphale along.

Aziraphale spent all week convincing his family to make alternate arrangements so he could have the car. He had his best suit cleaned and pressed and his Mother trimmed and neatened up his hair. He drove straight from the farm and followed the directions that brought him to a neighbourhood of drab, brick houses. Walking up the short, front path he wondered what it meant that Antonia was introducing him to some of her family, when she was so resisting meeting his.

Aziraphale was determined to make a good first impression. He would be charming and intelligent and show Antonia’s family he was a worthy partner for her. Straightening his bowtie, Aziraphale knocked on the door, smiled brightly, and held the bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape prominently in his arms. 

High-pitched shouting erupted from inside the house, with scuffling noises that drew nearer and nearer to the entrance. The door opened and there was Antonia, in sunglasses and a psychedelic black jumpsuit, hair in an assortment of messy braids, with two armfuls of Eric and a third latched onto her leg.

“Hey, Aziraphale!” she greeted him. “I see you found a ride. Nice fancy dress. Suits you.”

“Aunt Tonia! Aunt Tonia! Your boyfriend Aziraphale is here!” the Erics cried. They immediately dropped to the floor and crowded around him, tugging his trouser legs in their attempts to hug, climb, or suss him out. Inexplicably, they were all wearing rabbit ear headbands, which made the scene reminiscent of being swarmed by the hungry animals at farm chore time.

Amid all the fuss Antonia introduced Aziraphale to her brother Hastur. Aziraphale didn’t think he’d ever met a more dour, baleful man in his life. Black eyes, wordless scowl, a sartorial palette that brought to mind rot, grime, and larvae. 

Shooting an arm out to accept the wine, Hastur examined it quizzically and scowled, “what’s a Châteauneuf-du-Pape?”

Hastur’s husband, Ligur, was similarly dispositioned; standoffish with a malevolent gaze, and a deep voice like death from dragging over gravel. 

Which made it all the more surprising to watch the two of them chase and dote on the little Erics, entertaining them when they wanted attention, scooping them up when they were engaged in something dangerous, wiping sticky hands and faces. 

The interior of the house was dim, with sparse and oddly-proportioned decor. Nonetheless, there was a disorderly mirth to the home, an informality and warmth that was enlivened by the triplets.

Hastur and Ligur cooked and served a fine and elaborate Italian feast, incongruously grating out “chow!” when it was time to sit at the table. Aziraphale neglected to make much conversation, instead appreciating every mouthful by taking slow bites and audibly expressing his enjoyment.

After dinner, everyone sang for Antonia. Both homemade birthday cakes, a Torta Caprese and a Torta Alla Panna, were diabolically good. 

“I’d give my right arm for your recipe for these,” Aziraphale moaned through a forkful of dessert.

“Would you, now,” Ligur replied, smiling predatorily.

The evening had been full of surprises but none of them prepared Aziraphale for when the husbands went out back and set up a low tent and light machine in the small garden.

“Disco dance party!” the Erics shrieked in delight. Two Erics grabbed Aziraphale’s hands to pull him outside while the third pushed him from the back.

Antonia laughed. “Take off your jacket, angel. It looks new and we’d hate to ruin it.”

The seven of them gathered under the tent as the lights started to cycle through the colours of the rainbow and classic 70s disco music played. Utterly stone-faced, Hastur and Ligur began to prance, pose, and gyrate around something Aziraphale could only describe as a portable stripper pole. Aziraphale stood to the side with his mouth hanging open as they rode the pole like a horse, complete with up and down and giddyup motions. 

Meanwhile, Antonia walked an appraising circle around him, eyeing him up challengingly. “What kind of moves have you got, angel?”

She broke into a hip-swaying motion, jumping from leg to leg and alternating her shoulder and arm movements to the beat. She turned her head from side-to-side, red braids whipping around. The sweeping movements emphasized Antonia's lankiness, the length of her limbs. Aziraphale was plenty familiar with her flexibility and was still surprised to see her bend and swivel that way. 

The Erics saved him. Two crowded around Antonia and Aziraphale, arms held out to be picked up while the third stood by the light machine and mimicked the frenzy of being consumed by multi-coloured flames.

Each picking a triplet up, Aziraphale and Antonia followed their directions and danced (not good dancing, mind you) around each other, drawn together like magnets (magnets holding flailing, exuberant four-year-olds, but the description holds).

Aziraphale was acutely aware, in that moment, that he was uncomfortably buttoned up in his dress clothes, sweating, awkwardly dancing, surrounded by chaos. He was also in a whirlwind of colourful lights, celebratory notes zinging all around him, with an armful of cherubic child who clapped and cheered him on, and he himself was smiling and laughing. And Antonia was there.

Aziraphale leaned forward and Antonia met him halfway. They shared a kiss, and for several heartbeats it seemed like the world stopped to give them this private moment in time.

“Happy birthday, darling,” he wished her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer romance! 😍☀️💐 I hope I captured some of the magic.
> 
> \---
> 
> Aziraphale's second year of university will bring smut, a little drama, some realizations. 
> 
> I'm still working on that fic but hope to start posting within a month. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoying these two adorable characters with me! ❤️


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